Marionette
by Nineteen Cats
Summary: The traitor expected Lachance's Silencer to do his dirty work, to sever the fingers from the Black Hand one at a time. But the Silencer is no marionette, and will not be controlled so easily.
1. I

**Marionette**

Castle Skingrad is asleep when you slip quietly into the courtyard. You arrived in the city hours ago, still giddy from the completion of your last mission. It had taken weeks, but you had succeeded in eliminating every single member of the family named Draconis, and you were quite pleased with yourself. You were ready to receive new orders from your Speaker, hoping for some words of praise and an exciting new assignment, but you had forced yourself to wait. You knew the castle would be bustling with activity that time of day, and you did not wish to draw attention to yourself by rummaging around the well in plain sight. If someone besides you discovered the contents of the letter hidden there, there would most definitely be hell to pay.

Instead, you opted to treat yourself to some meat and mead at the West Weald Inn. You hadn't had a hot meal since you killed your third Draconis, so you helped yourself to two healthy servings of food and a flagon of their best drink. By the time you finished, most of the other patrons had sought their rooms for the night, and you knew you could pick up your orders without hassle.

The well is old and clearly dried out, but when you hoist up the bucket, it is obvious there is something heavy inside. 'Something heavy' turns out to be a sizeable bag filled with septims, your pay for a job well done. But what you're really interested in is the note placed discretely underneath the money, the orders from your Speaker that will lead you to a new opportunity to spill blood in the name of Sithis.

You don't inspect the paper until you're a safe distance away from the castle and its guards, but when you do, you are puzzled. Before you even begin reading, you notice the document is not properly sealed, much unlike your last two dead drops. When you do read, it takes a long time, as the handwriting is curvier than you're used to, and your Speaker has included far more details on this target than he has on the others. Altogether, the orders are strange.

Nevertheless, you don't question them. Lucien Lachance is a busy man, you know, and he likely had to place these orders in a hurry, which would explain the nearly unreadable handwriting and the lack of a seal. The excessive information is something he must have deemed a necessity for this particular contract, though you don't understand why he would want you to know who ordered the assassination and why. Regardless, some additional knowledge on a target could hardly hurt, you decide.

And so, with your orders safely tucked away, you mount Shadowmere and make for Bruma.

* * *

Your target's house is conveniently located in a rural area at the edge of town, far from the route most guards patrol. Breaking in is pathetically easy.

To your surprise, the house seems extraordinarily empty; not just because its occupant is nowhere to be found, but because it is rather poorly furnished. You had expected much more splendour from the nobleman your dead drop described.

However, when you poke around a little, you find two things of interest: a trapdoor hidden cleverly underneath a pile of cloth, and a large keg which does not contain drink, yet is secured with a heavy lock.

The thief in you tells you to check the keg first, as you might not have an opportunity later, and so you take out your lockpicks.

After your fourth lockpick breaks, you start to get frustrated. It has been a while since you've honed your thieving skills, you realise. Since you were banned from the Thieves Guild for committing too many murders while on the job, you haven't had much need to. The Dark Brotherhood pays handsomely, and you're sure you won't have to worry about coin again for as long as you live.

Still, the expertly locked keg is a hiding place even the most experienced thieves would likely not discover, and you crave to know its secret more than you care to possess its contents.

It takes nine lockpicks and a lot of muttered curses, but you are eventually triumphant. You pry away the lid to expose the treasure inside – and find your breath catching in your throat.

A regular thief would be disappointed by the meagre spills of a robe, a hood, and a book. But you, you know these items well. You carry a copy of the same book with you at all times, and the clothing you've only ever seen on one person. They are black as the Void, with a distinct resonance of magic only a powerful enchantment can emit. These are the robes of the Black Hand.

You flee the house immediately.

* * *

When you finally dismount your faithful steed, you're miles away from Bruma, deep inside the Great Forest. Here it is quiet. Here you can think.

You sink to the ground, your back resting against a tree, and you try to make sense of everything. The robes. The book. Your orders. The robes. The book. Your orders. The robes. The book. Your orders.

Perhaps, you muse, the Khajit had somehow taken the robes from a Speaker, and you were sent to deliver justice. It would make sense, only the dead drop specifically told you it was a noble family who had hired the Brotherhood, and it never mentioned retrieving the robes. Besides, it wouldn't explain why J'Ghasta owns a copy of _The Five Tenets_. It is not valuable like the robes, and its contents are meant only for members of the Brotherhood. A mere nobleman would not care enough to keep the items close together.

Then J'Ghasta is a member of the Family, you are forced to conclude, and if the hidden attire is any indication, he holds the rank of Speaker. Had you not given in to the urge to search the keg, a member of the Black Hand would have been killed. Considering J'Ghasta's superior position, that member likely would have been you.

 _Treachery_.

You say the word out loud, your fingers digging into the wet earth. The Purification has been for nothing. You took the lives of your Brothers and Sisters in vain. The traitor lives.

And suddenly, everything unusual about your orders makes perfect sense. The unfamiliar handwriting, the unsealed parchment, the unnecessarily detailed description. The instructions aren't strange because Lucien had been in a hurry when he wrote them; the instructions are strange because they weren't written by him in the first place.

The traitor had switched the dead drop.

Your head is reeling, but one thing you know for certain: you have to inform your Speaker.

Now.

* * *

 **A/N:** I was always bothered by the fact that you can actually find all of these clues that point to the dead drops being fake, but can't do anything with them. The first time I played through Oblivion and found that robe in J'Ghasta's house, I went back to Fort Farragut hoping to talk to Lucien about it (which had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I could initially not find the trapdoor in J'Ghasta's house. Nothing whatsoever). Considering the outcome of the questline, it is just really frustrating to have so much evidence that points you in the right direction without being able to use it. So I wrote this to be an alternate route within the Dark Brotherhood questline. There will be three parts to this little story. Thank you for reading; any feedback is much appreciated!


	2. II

**Marionette**

When you arrive at Fort Farragut, it is high noon. You jump off of Shadowmere's back and reward her with the briefest of caresses before you hurry to your Speaker's abode.

You enter the fort through the secret entrance hidden cleverly in a hallowed out tree stump. It leads directly to Lucien's private quarters, and will prevent you having to spend precious time navigating the maze-like halls that are filled with traps and Dark Guardians.

You drop down the ladder, an apology for the intrusion already on your lips, but that proves to be unnecessary. The hideout is deserted.

Cursing loudly, you slump down on the wooden chair next to the bookcase and wait. You would prefer to take action, to go looking for him, but Lucien Lachance is not easily tracked. You know he will return here eventually, however, for he considers the crumbling fort his home. So the wisest thing you can do now is simply to wait.

Still, knowing it is wise does not make it any less excruciating.

Ironically, when he finally does come, you are too busy pacing the small space between the bed and the alchemy lab to notice – until you feel a cold hand on your neck, ready to snap it at the slightest provocation.

"You have exactly thirty seconds to explain why you are blatantly disobeying my orders."

 _When you leave here, we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary._

You have broken the Third Tenet, you realise with a start, and now he has every right to end your life. You immediately throw your planned apology out the window and rush to tell him the reason you've come, your suspicions about the dead drop being false. Your words are enough to keep your Speaker from killing you – for now. Instead, he demands the dead drop you have deemed a fake, and you are more than happy to comply.

As he reads, you gradually feel the pressure on your neck lessen, until it falls away completely. You decide it is safe to face him now.

'Safe', however, is not the correct word to use in this situation. You know your Speaker is a dangerous man, an accomplished assassin, a conscienceless agent of Sithis. But only when you see the look on his face as he reads do you fully realise why he is feared even among his own Brothers and Sisters.

He must have read the words a dozen times when he finally acknowledges you. "The traitor lives."

His voice is reduced to a snarl that makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. Afraid your voice will crack if your answer him vocally, you nod.

His eyes return to the paper, and you know he is trying to decipher the author of the abominable document. Calligraphy alone is not much to go on, however, as Lucien too is soon forced to conclude.

He hands you back the counterfeit dead drop, along with your new orders. You are to go to Old Bridge, as the traitor has written, and see whether or not the next dead drop has already been placed. If so, you will travel to wherever the traitor has placed the subsequent dead drop. If not, you will lie in wait for whoever comes to place it. Eventually, you Speaker reasons, you will come upon an empty hiding place and can then confront the one who comes to leave the next false orders for you.

"Go now, Silencer, uncover the identity of the traitor, and then return to me."

* * *

The hunt for the traitor leads you all across Cyrodiil, from the Imperial City to an old fort and even an Ayelid ruin. Whoever wants you to hunt down the Black Hand is quite enthusiastic, as you find four more false dead drops at their specified locations. It is only when you arrive in Anvil after a day long ride from Drakelowe when you find the hiding place, a barrel behind the statue in the pond, to be devoid of coin and orders. It is here you begin your stakeout.

It takes almost a full day, but eventually, the barrel is approached by a rather twitchy Bosmer. He doesn't look like a Dark Brother, but you know from experience your brethren is able to disguise their murderous intent quite well, so you hold nothing back when you intercept him and shove him roughly against the back of the statue.

You were right; he is definitely not a Brother. The moment you take hold of him, he starts stuttering out an apology, his eyes so fearful you wonder if you've made him soil himself. At your urging, he explains he was paid to deliver the dead drop, paid by a robed man who lives in the cellar of the lighthouse.

The Anvil Lighthouse... if the traitor is confident enough to leave his counterfeit orders so close to his home, he is likely nearing his endgame. You must hurry.

You leave the bemused Wood Elf behind and stalk towards the lighthouse. The cellar is locked, of course, but the keeper of the lighthouse is quick to give you the key when you demand it from him. He must think you're mad, but you find you can't bring yourself to care about the old Nord's opinion. If he becomes a nuisance, you can always slit his throat later. Now, you must find the traitor.

You unlock the door and rush inside, summoning flames to your hand to illuminate the dark cellar, and, if necessary, to lob at the traitor's head. As you descend, you soon come to the conclusion that the traitor is gone – but he has left plenty behind.

There are corpses everywhere, both animal and human, some still whole, others in pieces, all in varying states of decay. The effluvium is so overwhelming you have to cover your mouth and nose with your hood before you can press on. A part of you is disgusted, but another part is morbidly fascinated. However much you may despise the traitor, you have to admire the almost artistic carvings on some of the bodies. The irony is not lost on you.

A swift search of the main room reveals nothing, so you pick the lock on the door to the backroom – only to be tackled by a vicious beast that wastes no time attempting to tear your throat out. Without thinking, you hurl the flames you were holding at the dog, killing it instantly and adding the lovely smell of charred flesh to the already poignant stench.

Grumbling to yourself about madmen and animal control, you stalk into the room.

It is here you strike gold. The traitor left behind his journal, a thick volume in which the maniac has recorded his every crazed thought in blood. You instantly realise the scribbles are written in the same handwriting as the fraudulent dead drops, a curly scrawl you would now recognise anywhere.

You read quickly, your eyes flying across the pages in search of concrete evidence of betrayal. What you learn is far more stomach-churning than the copious carcasses in the other room.

His psyche is beyond repair, that much you know. Perhaps, under different circumstances, you would have pitied him for the trauma he suffered from losing his mother, but the moment you find out he is after the life of your Speaker, you feel only rage and blind panic. The traitor has already forced you to slaughter your entire Family in Cheydinhal; you'll be damned if you allow him to take Lucien too.

Before you leave, you unceremoniously stuff the preserved head of the traitor's mother into a sack. If the lunatic really loves his mommy so much, he shouldn't just leave her behind for people like you to find.

* * *

The ride from Anvil back to Cheydinhal takes far too long for your taste, even with a steed as fast as Shadowmere to carry you there. You have ridden her all across Cyrodiil in your hunt for the traitor, and she is beginning to show signs of fatigue. As you spur her on, you remind yourself to reward the horse properly after the traitor has been dealt with.

When you finally do make it to Fort Farragut, you gather the journal and severed head you collected from the traitor's lair, itching to present the items to your Speaker. Surely he will be able to identify the true betrayer once he's read the journal, and then he and you can finally track the bastard down. Perhaps he'll even allow you the honour of striking the killing blow.

Cradling the precious evidence protectively, you slowly descend the ladder to Lucien's abode. You expect to find him waiting for you in the shadows, as he always does. Instead, you find discord.

The room has been ransacked. The bookcase has toppled over, littering the floor with tomes on the murderous arts. The bed in the corner has been stripped of blankets, pillow and mattress, all of which have been cut open to reveal the feathers inside. The tapestries that proudly displayed the Black Hand when you were last here have been cut down and burned. The one wooden chair has been reduced to splinters, and every container has either been smashed, emptied, or both.

You carefully step further into the room, your eyes round as saucers. Tentatively, you call out for your Speaker, hoping he has somehow managed to hide his presences from the intruder and is still here waiting for you, but you receive no answer.

You try your best to remain calm, but when you notice the blood on the floor, the same blind panic you felt while reading the traitors diary returns full force, squeezing your heart until you can barely breathe. It can't be, he can't be, the traitor can't have...!

But you have been gone for nearly a fortnight in your efforts to secure evidence of the treason, and a lot can happen in that time. The traitor has likely realised some time ago that you weren't following the orders he left for you, that you weren't about to indirectly incriminate Lucien. Perhaps he thought it time to take matters into his own hands.

No, you think, shaking your head to rid yourself of the foolish thoughts. Lucien isn't so easily caught, especially not in his own sanctum. Besides, there's not nearly enough blood here to indicate a life-threatening wound, and you're not even sure whether the sanguine fluid came from your Speaker or his assailant. This is not the time to lose your head.

You will yourself to think. The most important action to undertake now is finding your Speaker. If you were Lucien Lachance, and you were forced to flee your home, where would you go?

After pondering the question for a few minutes, you are forced to admit you have no clue where your Speaker might have hidden. As his Silencer, you have only ever been summoned here, to Fort Farragut, and before that, it was always Lucien who initiated contact by finding you wherever you slept. Of course, despite never seeing him there yourself, you know he visited the Sanctuary from time to time, but you're certain that's not where he has fled. Your Speaker is far too clever to choose such a predictable hideout.

Then where has he gone? You know you can't expect him to come find you as he always used to, not while being chased by someone who thirsts for his blood. But you also know Lucien expects to meet with you to discuss your findings. There is only one logical conclusion: he must have left a hint on his whereabouts in this room somewhere. It is only a matter of finding it in this chaos.

You start with the books scattered across the floor, hoping to find an inkling in your Speaker's handwriting, but you come up short. Next, you scour the broken containers for clues, but most of the contents are just as shattered as the vessels they were stored in. Even Lucien's precious poisoned apples have been squashed, coating a large part of the floor in deadly apple sauce. You briefly wonder if you should try to salvage some to feed to the traitor, but it is then you catch something shiny in your peripheral vision.

In the corner you find a single whole apple, gleaming with the potent poison only your Speaker knows how to concoct. Next to it lays a human eyeball, its blue iris staring blankly at the ceiling. The items are perfectly aligned, obviously placed here with great care. Could this be what you're searching for? But what does it mean? Apple and eye. You're the apple of his eye? A lovely sentiment, but surely that's not what he's trying to tell you. Apple eye. Apple... see? Apple look, stare, view? Apple watch?

 _Applewatch._

You clearly remember the lonely little settlement in the Jerall Mountains where you appeased Sithis a month prior. The farmhouse is utterly inconspicuous, far away from prying eyes and, thanks to you, void of inhabitants. This must be where your Speaker has gone.

So it is where you will go, too.

* * *

 **A/N:** In the actual game, Lucien temporarily disappears after you pick up the false dead drop, preventing you from speaking to him before actually compromising the Black Hand. Damn you, Bethesda. Of course, even if you could speak to him (as decribed above), the questline would not be all rainbows and butterflies, so the endgame still takes place at Applewatch. Also, I always wanted the DB questline to have a clue-searching section, like at Castle Chorrol in Oblivion or at Hjerm in Skyrim, considering the mystery that surrounds it. In-game, the last section of this chapter would be looking at everything and having messages pop up regarding its meaning – I love feeling like a detective in any game, really. Thank you for reading; any feedback is much appreciated!


	3. III

**Marionette**

You see the lone farmhouse appear on the horizon moments after the sun has set. Shadowmere speeds up without any urging from you, as if she can sense the danger that looms over her former owner. Considering just how unusual the horse is, you wouldn't be surprised if she actually can.

You halt her right before the low, crumbly stone wall that surrounds the home and its fields. Evidence in hand, you jump right over the sad excuse for an obstacle and make for the door, your heartbeat louder with every step you take. You're afraid of what you'll find inside, afraid that the proof you've collected comes too late, afraid that the last member of the family you've grown so attached to has joined the Dread Father in the Void. But you push open the door anyway, because this fear of the unknown is worse than any truth could be.

When you step inside, you are instantly greeted by a blade aimed straight at your heart – but when your Speaker realises it is you, the weapon is swiftly sheathed. "Silencer," he murmurs softly, an uncharacteristic amount of relief evident in his voice. "I trust you bring good news."

You quickly present him with the sack of evidence you've collected. He takes out the preserved head with a macabre curiosity on his face, and you use the opportunity to ask what transpired while you were away.

"It seems the traitor took measures into his own hands when he realised you were not the mindless puppet he took you for," Lucien explains to you as he studies the severed head carefully. "I travelled to Bruma while you hunted down the traitor, but I was too late to warn J'Ghasta. When I returned to Fort Farragut, my retreat was in ruins, and what remains of the Black Hand was waiting for me with grave news. Not only J'Ghasta, but another Speaker and two Silencers now kneel before Sithis... as does our Listener."

You make a strangled sound, and he nods grimly in response. "Indeed. It is a great loss for the Dark Brotherhood. Worse is that they believe you did the deeds, under my direct orders. They are now convinced it was I who betrayed them."

You gape at him, trying to process this new information, and failing miserably.

Lucien smiles bitterly as he returns the head to the sack and pulls out the journal. "Their train of thought is wrong, but not illogical. They know you are not the traitor, as you joined the Brotherhood after the first signs of treachery were uncovered. Yet you have been travelling all across the province these past weeks in a seemingly random pattern, picking up dead drops you should, under normal circumstances, only receive from the Speaker you serve. Meanwhile, several members of the Black Hand turn up dead, while none of the Brotherhood's known targets have been eliminated. What other conclusion could they come to?"

Even you have to admit things do add up. If you were not so sure of your Speaker's loyalty to the Brotherhood, you would likely have thought the same. Nevertheless, the two of you have evidence to prove the contrary now, and you tell your Speaker as much.

His smile becomes more earnest at your words, and he opens the book that proves his innocence. You wait patiently as he reads, certain he will be able to tell who the author of the journal is by the fount of information recorded in it – but before he can even get past the first page, the door the farmhouse is flung open with such force it bursts from its hinges and lands right at your feet.

Your hand immediately flies to the blade at your hip, but your blood freezes when you realize there are four figures in the doorway – all clothed from head to toe in the colour of the Void.

"So, you are dragging your Silencer down with you, Lachance?" asks the leading robed figure, a High Elf if her haughty voice is any indication. "How typical."

"Arquen," your Speaker returns courteously. "Your radiant presence is a welcome sight, as always."

He's mocking her, you realize, and you stifle a snort by disguising it as a cough. The Altmer does not dignify him with a response, instead turning to you. "You do not have to continue following the path this traitor set you on, Silencer. We are aware you were only obeying the orders of your Speaker, as any loyal subordinate would." She extends her hand to you. "Help us rid the Brotherhood of this filthy contamination, and you shall be richly rewarded."

By means of an answer, you draw your dagger and swipe it across her open palm. Her blood splashes audibly on the floor, and she retracts her hand immediately, hissing in pain. "So be it," another Speaker, an Imperial, murmurs gravely. "If you wish to remain loyal to the betrayer, you may die with him."

The others seem to agree, as the four of them unsheathe their weapons nearly simultaneously. Your Blade of Woe looks tiny and insignificant when matched against their steel, but you hold it in front of you anyway, prepared to defend your Speaker to the death.

A book snaps shut. "Now, now, there is no need for such animosity," Lucien drawls as he stands, laying a hand on your shoulder to keep you from lunging at the others.

"You dare give us orders?!" screeches the High Elf. She is holding her dagger rather awkwardly in her bleeding hand, you notice. If it comes to it, you should take her out first.

"Merely a friendly suggestion, dear Sister. You are quite mistaken, you see. I am not the traitor you seek."

"Well, alright then. Sorry to trouble you, we'll just be on our way," is the sarcastic remark from the Dunmer closest to the door.

They laugh, the four of them, a bone-chilling sound that bounces off the walls of the tiny farmhouse. You tighten your grip on your dagger, your every muscle tense. How your Speaker is able to remain so calm in their menacing presence is beyond you.

Indeed, he actually lets out a chuckle himself, seemingly completely undisturbed. "Your lack of confidence in me is wounding," he says dramatically, the smirk never leaving his lips. "But if you must, I have the means to prove my statement."

That seems to get their attention. Naturally, the Altmer is the first to demand to see the evidence. Lucien casually tosses her the diary he's barely had a chance to glance at. "That is the traitor's journal."

Arquen catches it, but makes no move to read. "And who is to say you did not write this yourself to incriminate one of us?"

You angrily inform her that you were the one who found it, a long distance away in the cellar of the Anvil Lighthouse, but they are not impressed. All your credibility, it seems, was thrown out the window the moment you decided to stand with your Speaker.

"You'll have to do better than that, Lachance," comes the dangerously soft voice of the one Speaker who has remained quiet until now, a Breton whose eyes gleam with so much merriment it makes you want to punch him in the face.

Your Speaker must have noticed it too, for you feel his fingers dig into your shoulder at the words. His facade, however, remains unreadable. "If you insist, Mathieu."

You turn your head to look at him, unable to keep the incredulousness out of your expression. With the Black Hand refusing to read that diary, the most important piece of evidence you brought, how could he possibly convince them of his innocence?

But Lucien only smiles knowingly at you and reaches for the sack you brought him, pulling from it the severed head of the traitor's mother. The reveal is met with some slight mutterings of unease, but none of the Speakers lose their composure. They are all servants of Sithis, and a half-rotten head isn't enough to rattle them. "She's lovely, isn't she?" your Speaker purrs when the farmhouse has grown quiet again.

"What is that supposed to prove, Lachance?" Arquen barks, her patience all but gone.

"Let's just kill him now," exclaims the Imperial eagerly as he strokes his longsword. "He can't prove a thing." His statement is quickly followed by an approving sound from the Dunmer.

Your attention, however, is drawn away from the three bloodthirsty members of the Black Hand to the lone Breton who hasn't even made an attempt to lift his blade. His eyes are focused firmly on the head in your Speakers hand, the merriment that had lightened them not minutes ago changed into complete and utter shock.

With a jolt, you realize you're looking straight at the traitor.

You take a step forward, ready to disembowel the bastard right here and now, but your Speaker still has his hand on your shoulder, and it is keeping you from advancing any further. When you look at him, he stares you down and gives the slightest shake of his head.

 _Restrain yourself._

Of course, you can't just charge right ahead and stick your blade in his face, no matter how much you may want to. As long as the remaining Speakers are unaware of the true traitor's identity, they will only interpret your attack as a declaration of war. Even if you somehow manage to slit the Breton's throat, his death will not prove his guilt – and by extension, Lucien's innocence. Your only option is to wait, and hope he will reveal his true colours personally.

The sound of steel scraping against leather fills the room as you see your Speaker draw his own dagger from its sheath from the corner of your eye. Arquen immediately summons a bolt of lightning to her hands, ready to strike, but it falters when Lucien fails to meet her expectations and attack. Instead, he brings his blade up to the severed head and slowly drives the tip into one of the unseeing eyes, carving it from its socket a lot more sloppily than necessary. He finally fully removes it with a sickening 'pop', the milky eyeball stuck to his dagger. Flicking his blade almost lazily, the oculus is released from the weapon and lands, with a soft splash only decomposed tissue can make, on the right shoe of Mathieu.

That's when he snaps.

In the blink of an eye, the Dunmer and Imperial Speakers you could not name are brought down, and the traitor bowls over Arquen as he rushes straight at you, all the while shouting obscenities and cursing you, your Speaker, the Night Mother, the Dark Brotherhood, and Sithis himself for causing him so much grief. You have your blade at the ready, but you are not given an opportunity to use it as your Speaker pulls you back and positions himself between you and the traitor. If anything, this enrages him more, and he holds nothing back as his blade violently clashes with Lucien's, sending sparks flying.

Their fight is mesmerizing, steel flying so fast your eyes can hardly keep up. The traitor is a whirlwind, fuelled by rage and adrenaline, but Lucien can read his every move and parries with ease. You stand to the side with Arquen, your animosity forgotten, transfixed on the vicious duel taking place.

All in all, the clash between the two Speakers could not have taken more than five minutes, but it seems an eternity before you finally see Mathieu falter, the adrenaline alone not enough to keep him on his toes. Lucien notices too, and the moment his opponent makes his first and only misstep, he strikes.

The dagger has hit the heart, you know, for the amount of blood pouring from the wound is incredible, like a crimson waterfall. The traitor is down within seconds, the life draining rapidly from his pale eyes. He gasps for air, his left lung likely perforated as well, and with his last breath, he whispers a single word: "Mother".

When it's over, a heavy silence falls over Applewatch as the three remaining members of the Black Hand look upon the Breton's body. It is only when Lucien kneels to pull his blade from the traitor's heart that Arquen speaks, her voice quiet and subdued. "He was my Silencer," she murmurs, as if in a daze. "Bellamont, he… how… why…?"

She can't seem to find the right words, and you feel a pang of regret for her. The bond between a Speaker and a Silencer is sacred, you know better than anyone else, and to have it shattered this brutally must be a terrible feeling.

Lucien, too, looks at the body with an oddly emotional expression. You remember reading in the traitor's journal that he had served in Lucien's sanctuary once, which is likely why the Black Hand was so convinced that the traitor resided in Cheydinhal.

"I killed his mother," your Speaker eventually states, his voice low. He nods towards the severed head he had thrown aside when Bellamont challenged him. "She was one of my first contracts. A housewife, a feeble, easy target. Her husband has issued the order, given us the times when he and his son would be away from home." He smiles, a melancholy smile that does not fit him. "I never even noticed the boy was there. I just assumed he wouldn't be."

He sheathes his blade and straightens, a sigh escaping him as he looks to the duo of fallen Speakers near the door. "We must bury out Brothers," he says gravely, "and then seek out the Night Mother for guidance in these dark times."

The mention of the Bride of Sithis seems to wake Arquen from her stupor, and when she agrees, her voice carries a hint of the haughtiness it had displayed so prominently before. "Yes. Yes, our Unholy Matron will certainly know how to proceed."

So the three of you spend the night digging two graves behind the farmhouse, away from prying eyes. When the sun rises, you bury the corpses of the Imperial and the Dunmer, whose names you learn as your Speaker carefully carves them into the large rocks that will serve as their headstones. Bellamont's body is left face-down on the floor of Applewatch, unworthy of a proper burial.

When you finally depart for Bravil, you are exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you do not complain. For you know, as you glance at your Speaker riding besides you, that things could have been much worse.

For now, you are alive, and more importantly, Lucien is alive. The last remaining member of your Family is alive, and that is all that matters.

You will never leave his side again.

* * *

 **A/N:** And that, ladies and gentleman, is how it should have ended. Or, well, how I would have like it to end, at least. Letting you keep one person from the Sanctuary you knew and loved isn't so much to ask for, right? Skyrim let you keep Babette, Nazir, and (possibly) Cicero (even though I would have preferred Festus, he's a hoot), so why can't Oblivion give you Lucien? Or Vicente; for Sithis' sake, why kill the vampire who has already been in your organisation for over a century? You really think he'd wait that long to strike, Blank Hand? Really? Anyway, this was my alternate ending for the DB questline. I hope you were able to picture your own character as the 'you' persona in this story, because that's what a proper alternate ending to a game with limitless character possibilities should be able to do. I made sure never to mention the gender or the race of the Silencer, and he/she never had any actual lines of dialogue, which I think (hope) helps with the immersion. Thank you all for reading; any feedback is still much appreciated!


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